Mother Knows Best
by Travithian Axile
Summary: Casefic. A rash of child killings at the hands of their mothers spurs the Winchesters to investigate a small town in Kansas. Set in Season 2.


**Title: **Mother Knows Best  
**Characters:** Dean, Sam  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Casefic. A rash of child killings at the hands of their mothers spurs the Winchesters to investigate a small town in Kansas.  
**Word Count:** 969  
**Warnings: **Some violence, disturbing original character backstory later on.

**Notes:** Takes place in Season 2 immediately after 'Simon Said', in September 2006.

* * *

_'Cos Mother knows best  
She tells everybody she was born in a ditch  
She backcombs her hair till she looks like a witch  
Wolves in her train, serpents suckle at her breast  
Don't forget to wash behind your ears  
'Cos Mother knows best_

- Richard Thompson, "Mother Knows Best"

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Chapter One

_Burlingame, Kansas_

_One week ago_

"Kenny! Go back to bed!"

Kenny ignored his mother, standing in the doorway with her arms stuck out to either side of her like a funny statue. His yellow Transformers toy had rolled underneath the cabinet and he wanted to get it back before Boston found it and chewed it up like he had all the fuzzy slippers around the house, leaving them covered in icky dog drool.

"_Kenny." _Mom stomped closer; seeing as she was wearing a pair of those fuzzy slippers with bunny ears on them she didn't sound as scary as she obviously wished she did. "I have to get up early tomorrow to work, okay? I can't sleep knowing you're in there and—probably going to burn down the house the moment my back's turned—"

Kenny stretched out his arm as far as it would go, wiggling his fingers. They brushed against something small and hard and he grins in triumph, kicking his legs against the linoleum. Just a little bit closer—

"Are you even _listening _to me?" Mom whined. "Kids nowadays…I slave for you day and night…and I _still_ get the brat act…"

She continued grumbling and shuffling about the kitchen as Kenny gave one final twist of his body, allowing his hand to latch onto the yellow plastic car. He let out a little victory yell, never mind that he was the only one who could hear it, and began pushing himself back out. There was absolutely no way he was going to sleep without 'Bee under his pillow—

One hand latched around his ankle and _yanked. _

Kenny screamed as his head went bump-bump against the wooden underside of the cabinet. He dropped the toy car, 'Bee totally forgotten, fingers sliding uselessly for a grip on the smooth tiles. "Mom!" he yelped, but his mouth was smashed against the floor and the name didn't come out right. "Mom, help me!"

"Oh, Mommy's gonna help you all right," someone said in a deep, growly voice, and Kenny _oofed_ as he was flipped over, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. For a moment everything went blurry as the back of his head whacked against the floor again. "Mommy?" he said again, fighting to see. She didn't answer and that was when Kenny knew that she must have been caught and maybe killed already from behind like he sometimes saw on TV. Horrified tears burned his eyes. If whoever it was got Mom, he didn't have a chance. He's all alone, there was no weapon he could use lying around—

Something long and shining came into view, and Kenny blinked away the mist from his eyes just in time to see what it was, just for a split second, looming right in front of him. He opened his mouth again, and the kitchen knife, the one that Mom used everyday to slice vegetables sliced instead into his bottom lip, knocking against his teeth. Kenny wanted to faint from the pain. He wanted to be dreaming, for Mommy to shake him awake any moment. _This can't be real! _his mind cried out.

The bad guy stooped over him, and that was when Kenny knew, in a sudden flare of hope and joy, that it _really _couldn't be real, because he knew that face and she wouldn't ever do anything to hurt him like this—

Then the knife came down again, chopping into his left eye—one burst of white, hot pain later, the blackness surged up and swallowed him whole.

* * *

_Oklahoma_

_Present Day_

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, dropping the newspaper—and more carefully, two cups of coffee— onto the table. "Check this out, man; it's classic."

Sam tore his eyes away from the screen where he'd been obsessively combing through the records of Ansen Weems, trying to find _something _that stood out, marking him out of the ordinary, aside from his recent apparent suicide and the creepy mind mojo thing he had going on. Dean was glad to see him pick up the paper and scan the page Dean had opened it to. So they couldn't find all the special children, which was something of a major setback, but in the meantime supernatural SOBs were still haunting the landscape and there were people who needed rescuing. A nice, normal hunt would do wonders in restoring the old camaraderie, bring back the old days when Sam's dreams were just dreams and his weird ability didn't hover uneasily between them like a wall.

He breathed out a nearly silent sigh of relief when Sam's face filled with clear interest. "Mothers are going berserk and killing their kids—third time this month," Sam muttered to himself, eyes darting back and forth. "Latest culprit Janet Holliday pleads temporary insanity. No previous history of abuse. You're right, it does look like our kind of thing."

"When are my instincts ever wrong?" Dean chuckled and took a small sip from his coffee.

Sam's eyes glinted. "You want me to answer that?" A tiny smile curled the corner of his mouth, but it was still a real smile. Seeing him like this, it's much harder for Dean to believe that he could ever become the killer he was so afraid he would devolve to. Screw Dad and the yellow-eyed demon together; they had absolutely no idea what Sam was really like.

"Save the lecture for the brand new monster of the week, bitch," Dean said, smirking over the top of the cup. "Maybe its weakness is getting talked to death."

"Jerk," Sam tossed right back as he shut the laptop, and there was totally a Hallmark moment that Dean coughed to break after a few seconds of semi-goofy staring. He drained the last of his coffee, burning his throat, and got up from his seat. "Let's go, Ghostbusters. We've got ourselves a case."

* * *

_-end chapter one-_

Ending Notes: Just posting this chapter up first as the idea would not let go – will probably continue after I'm certain that I can finish my Gen BB fic in time for the deadline.


End file.
